


Coming Home

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A surprise awaits Vera when she gets home from work. Set in season 4, because I really missed Fletch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short little Fletch/Vera fic, because I really missed them.

Vera sighed as the front door closed behind her. It had been one hell of a day. She dropped her bag on the floor and continued through to the small kitchen. As she neared the doorway, she was met with the wonderful smell of vegetables and fresh spices.

“What the…” she mumbled as she rounded the corner.

“Hello, Vera.”

 

Vera all but ran towards the figure standing in her kitchen, as she squealed: “Matt!” The tall man smiled and pulled her in for an embrace. Pressed against his body, Vera took a deep breath and let out a content hum. She looked up at Fletch and asked: “What are you doing here? How did you know I’d be home?”

“Er…I may or may not have bribed Linda into letting me know when you left work today,” he admitted.

“What?” Vera asked incredulously. Fletch scratched his neck as he attempted to change the subject: “So, anyway, come.” He took Vera’s hand, leading her towards the table set for two. “Otherwise the food’s going to get cold.” He helped Vera to her seat and grabbed two plates from the countertop. A colourful ratatouille was piled high on them.

“Oh, that looks absolutely wonderful!”

“I just hope it tastes well,” Fletch remarked, winking at the brunette. She took a tentative bite. The flavours melted on her tongue.

“It’s lovely. Thank you. Just what I needed.” She smiled at Fletch, who gently took her left hand in his across the table. Smiling back, he responded: “It’s my pleasure.”

 

When they were done eating, Fletch got up to clear the table. Vera shook her head.

“Oh, no, let me. You’ve already cooked.”

“No,” he refused, “you go get changed into something comfortable. I’ll be fine. It’s just dishes.” Winking, he sent her towards her bedroom.

 

Later that evening, they were cuddled up on the couch, watching a comedy. Vera was tucked into Fletch’s side, experiencing increasingly more difficulty in keeping her eyes open. His hand was on her lower back, softly stroking the skin through her light cotton shirt. Vera hummed contently.

As the credits rolled onto the screen, the brunette suddenly felt wetness beneath her cheek. Confused, she lifted her head.

“Oh fuck!” She touched her hand to her face.

Red. Blood. She was having a nosebleed, on Fletch’s white shirt! She wanted to run away in shame. If only the heavens would grant her one wish, and let the ground swallow her whole.

“I…I’m so sorry. I’ll pay to have it cleaned. Or get you a new one. I’m so sorry, Fletch.” She jumped up from the couch and ran towards her bedroom. Closing the door, she let herself slump onto the floor. That fucking hepatitis. It ruined everything. Absolutely everything. Fuck!

 

She was pulled out of her thoughts by a soft knock at the door. Fletch slipped inside the room. Sniffling, Vera told him: “You don’t have to stay. Go home. I’ll be fine.” As he kneeled down to the floor, he asked her: “Do you want me to leave?” Vera looked up at him and shook her head. “Well then!” He began lifting his shirt over his head.

“Wha…what are you doing?” Vera asked.

“This needs to go in the laundry,” he explained as if it were the most logical thing in the world. When he’d finished taking the garment off, he moved his hands towards the top buttons of Vera’s shirt. Pointing at a small red fleck on her collar, he whispered: “Better get this off too.” He began slipping the buttons through the holes, trailing his fingers across the skin he uncovered. Vera felt the heat from his fingertips traveling through her body like an electric current. Feeling him slip the shirt from her shoulders, her breath hitched.

“Uh, Vera?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“It didn’t just get on your shirt.” Vera looked down at her body. There was a small speck of blood on her bra.

“Well,” she murmured, “maybe you should take that one off too.”


End file.
